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I’m not religious. While Mum sought comfort and aid from a higher being on her knees in church, for me, Lottie’s disappearance was the final proof that if a god existed, it was a bitter, vengeful one, undeserving of our attention.
But there’s something soothing about the soft cadences of Father Jonathan’s prayers, the tangible faith of more than two millennia that he represents. It’s hard not to find a kind of solace in the belief of others, even if I can’t join them. I felt its power when I married Luca in his maternal family’s ancient chapel in Sicily, walking down an aisle worn smooth by the passage of thousands of feet. I felt it again two years later, when I stood in front of the same altar a few feet from his coffin as the priest eddied clouds of incense from the gold thurible around us. A strange calm, as though I’d put myself in the hands of something larger and unknowable. Not faith, exactly. But a sort of surrendering.
Dad and I stand at the head of Mum’s bed, on either side, holding her hands.
The nurses have turned off the monitors, so there’s no beeping, no alarms. Father Jonathan and Aunt Julie flank her feet, with Sharon between them. Mum is encircled by love.
I don’t know if she’s aware of us, but Naomi Todd has told us hearing is the last sense to go. ‘It’s OK,’ I whisper, bending next to her pillow. ‘I’ve found Lottie. I’ll bring her home, I promise. You can go now. I’ll look after Dad.’
A small tear appears at the corner of her eye. I wipe it away and tuck the precious tissue in my pocket.
Her breathing is so shallow I can barely make out the rise and fall of her chest. I can’t believe my mother is leaving me. She’s only fifty-nine. She’ll never get to see Lottie come home. Never celebrate another Christmas with us.
I try to remember the last conversation we had, and fail. It would have been about Lottie. It was always about Lottie. I don’t think I’ve seen, not reallyseen, my mother since the day my child was taken. I need to apologise to her for that—
Naomi Todd gently touches my shoulder. ‘She’s gone, Alex.’
Mum looks as if she’s sleeping. And yet I can tell instantlyshe isn’t here any more. The essence of her, who she is, who she loved, has gone.
Dad presses Mum’s hand to his cheek and lays his head on the pillow next to her. He looks utterly broken.
‘Come on, love,’ Aunt Julie says. ‘Let your dad have some time alone with her.’
‘Someone should tell Harriet,’ I say.
‘In a minute,’ Aunt Julie says.
In the waiting room, Sharon presses a hot mug of tea into my hand. I don’t know why I’m so felled by this. I feel stupefied. I’m thirty-one years old. I haven’t needed my mother for a long time. I’m not sure I can even remember how to breathe.
Aunt Julie sits next to me and rubs my back. ‘You’re all right, love. You’re all right.’
‘Someone should tell Harriet,’ I repeat.
‘Do you want me to call her for you?’
I should be the one to tell my sister, but I don’t trust myself. ‘Let me give you her number,’ I say.
‘I’ve got it, love. She gave it to me when I saw her at the airport.’
My mind is fogged. I can’t seem to make sense of anything.
My aunt steps out into the corridor to make the call. I grip the cooling mug of tea with both hands, as if it’s all that’s tethering me to the ground.
‘Harriet’s leaving Shetland tomorrow morning,’ Aunt Julie says, when she returns. ‘She’ll let us know her flight details as soon as she has them.’
‘When?’ I ask.
‘When what, love?’
‘When did you see her at the airport?’
‘The day Lottie disappeared,’ she says, patiently. ‘I ran into her at Heathrow. Now, stop worrying, love. We’ll get things sorted.’
I finish my tea, even though it’s cold now. I’ve got so manythings to do, but my thoughts are disjointed and out of order. It’s as if each of them has been written on pieces of paper that’ve been tossed willy-nilly into the air.
A man who looks like my father joins us in the family suite. He’s wearing Dad’s clothes and Dad’s glasses, but this man is hollowed out, empty, a husk of a man. He sits on the sofa, his hands hanging uselessly between his knees, and I can’t bear the pain of seeing him shrunken and diminished like this.
I can’t let my father collapse in on himself. If I don’t do something, he’ll sink without trace. I’m the only one who can restore the heart of this family.
And I made a promise to my mother.
